LESSON CII. Story of Rabbi Akiba.-HURWITZ'S HEBREW TALES. COMPELLED, by violent persecution, to quit his native land Rabbi Akiba wandered over barren wastes and dreary deserts. His whole equipage consisted of a lamp, which he used to light at night, in order to study the law; a cock, which served him instead of a watch, to announce to him the rising dawn; and an ass, on which he rode. The sun was gradually sinking behind the horizon, 'night was fast approaching, and the poor wanderer knew not where to shelter his head, or where to rest his weary limbs. Fatigued, and almost exhausted, he came at last near a village. He was glad to find it inhabited, thinking, where human beings dwelt, there dwelt, also, humanity and compassion. But he was mistaken. He asked for a night's lodging. It was refused. Not one of the inhospitable inhabitants would accommodate him. He was, therefore, obliged to seek shelter in a neighbouring wood. "It is hard, very hard," said he, "not to find a hospitable roof to protect me against the inclemency of the weather; but God is just, and whatever he does is for the best." He seated himself beneath a tree, lighted his lamp, and began to read the law. He had scarcely read a chapter, when a violent storm extinguished the light. "What!" exclaimed he, "must I not be permitted even to pursue my favorite study! But God is just, and whatever he does is for the best." He stretched himself on the earth, willing, if possible, to have a few hours' sleep. He had hardly closed his eyes, when a fierce wolf came and killed the cock. "What new misfortune is this!" ejaculated the astonished Akiba. "My vigilant companion is gone! Who, then, will henceforth awaken me to the study of the law? But God is just; he knows what is good for us poor mortals.” Scarcely had he finished the sentence, when a terrible lion came and devoured the ass. "What is to be done now?" exclaimed the lonely wanderer. "My lamp and my cock are gone-my poor ass, too, is gone-all is gone! But, praised be the Lord, whatever he does is for the best." He passed a sleepless night, and, early in the morning, went to the village to see whether he could procure a horse, or any other beast of burden, to enable him to pursue his jour ney. But what was his surprise, not to find a single individual alive! It appears, that a band of robbers had entered the village during the night, killed its inhabitants, and plundered their houses. As soon as Akiba had sufficiently recovered from the amazement, into which this wonderful occurrence had thrown him, he lifted up his voice, and exclaimed, "Thou great God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, now I know, by experience, that poor mortal men are short-sighted and blind; often considering as evils, what was intended for their preservation! But thou, alone, art just, and kind, and merciful. "Had not the hard-hearted people driven me, by their inhospitality, from the village, I should assuredly have shared their fate. Had not the wind extinguished my lamp, the robbers would have been drawn to the spot, and have murdered me. I perceive, also, that it was thy mercy which deprived me of my companions, that they might not, by their noise, give notice to the banditti where I was. Praised, then, be thy name for ever and ever!" LESSON CII. Alice Fell-WORDSWORTH. THE post-boy drove with fierce career,- A moan, a lamentable sound. As if the wind blew many ways I heard the sound, and more and more: It seemed to follow with the chaise, At length, I to the boy called out: The boy then smacked his whip, and fast The voice, and bade* him halt again. Said I, alighting on the ground, "My cloak!" the word was last and first, As if her very heart would burst; And down from off the chaise she leapt. "What ails you, child?" She sobbed, "Look here !" I saw it in the wheel entangled, A weather-beaten rag as e'er From any garden scare-crow dangled. 'Twas twisted betwixt nave and spoke: Her help she lent, and, with good heed, Together we released the cloak,— A wretched, wretched rag, indeed! "And whither are you going, child, To-night, along these lonesome ways?" "To Durham," answered she, half wild:"Then come with me into the chaise." She sat like one past all relief; Sob after sob she forth did send In wretchedness, as if her grief Could never, never, have an end. "My child, in Durham do you dwell ?" "And I to Durham, sir, belong." And then, as if the thought would choke * Pron. bad. The chaise drove on; our journey's end Up to the tavern-door we post :- "And let it be of duffil gray, As warm a cloak as man can sell!” Proud creature was she, the next day, The little orphan, Alice Fell. LESSON CIV. To the Eolian Harp.-EUROPEAN Magazine HARP of the Zephyr, whose least breath, o'er The leaf that curls upon youth's warm band, When thankless flowers in silence bend, Thou hailest the freshness of heaven with song; When forests the air with their howlings rend, Thou soothest the storm as it raves along. Yes: thine is the magic of Friendship's bower,- Thou hast accents of bliss for the calmest hour, Harp of the breeze, whether gentle or strong, Hark! hark!-even the swell of my own wild song Hath awakened a mild, responsive strain. It is not an echo: 'tis far too sweet To be born of a lay so rude as mine: But, oh! when terror and softness meet, How pure are the hues of the wreath they twine! Thus the breath of my rapture hath swept thy chords I hear it, I hear it,-now fitfully swelling, Heaven's own harp! save angel fingers, None should dare open thy mystic treasures. Farewell! for each note on mine ear still lingers, And mine may not mingle with thy blest measures LESSON CV. Burial of Sir John Moore.*-C. WOLFE. NOT a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, We buried him darkly, at dead of night, No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet, nor in shroud, we bound him; *Who fell in the battle of Corunna, in Spain, 1808. |